


So a Troll Walks into a Club

by grossnasty



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Asphyxiation, Blood, Cannibalism, Character Death, Dacryphilia, Emetophilia, Eye Gouging, Eye Trauma, Force-Feeding, Gore, Guro, M/M, Necrophilia, Torture, Violence, ableist language aka sober!gamzee. you know the drill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-23 00:09:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3748300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grossnasty/pseuds/grossnasty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gamzee drags Karkat to the far reaches of the meteor and admits there's something he's been wanting to do with Karkat. Fun hijinks ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So a Troll Walks into a Club

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so I wrote this when the sober gamzee updates first came out. that was, what, 2012? so, yeah, that's how old this is. but I wanted to publish it anyway so here we are. enjoy. (I apologize for the cheesy language, but hey, it's Gamzee. also, there's not actually any real noncon in here, but I tagged it noncon because I'm pretty sure murder and necrophilia aren't consensual. if you feel it doesn't merit the noncon tag, let me know.)

"GAMZEE, WHAT THE EVERLOVING FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?"

Your eyes hone in on his face. Static gathers in the corners of your vision as you stare into his eyes. They're wide with terror and his nostrils are flaring. A silly grin tugs on your lips and you can't help the trill of mirthful laughter that escapes you. You thoughtfully remove a club from your strife deck, weighing it with your hand and feeling a spark of satisfaction at the look of dawning comprehension his face. He scrambles backwards a little bit. Seems he's finally getting the picture.

"GAMZEE. GAMZEE NO-- GAMZEE PLEASE. FUCK. FUCK YOU, YOU CLOWN TOOLBAG. FUCK YOU W--"

He hasn't even drawn out his sickles yet. Maybe he thinks he can be the diplomat here and work things out. Like a moirail would. Like a good leader would. Good thing you've never really had much of a thing for systems of authority. 

"I KNOW YOU'VE ALWAYS HAD YOUR INSANE BULLSHIT GOING ON OR WHATEVER, BUT CALM THE FUCK DOWN. THIS IS NOT THE TIME FOR IT. PUT THE CLUBS AWAY. RIGHT NOW."

Insane? This is the sanest you've ever felt, motherfucker. Like someone all and turned on a light in your head.

"I ain't been thinkin this clear in a long time, best friend. A REALLY LONG MOTHERFUCKING TIME. I've been doing some thinking and figuring. DON'T BE TELLING ME WHAT TO. "

He opens his mouth to reply when the first club comes down. He falls to the floor with a gasp. He hunches in on himself as your blows fall, one after another. You pause, throwing your clubs aside, barely panting, as you take in his miserable form. 

Red tears streak down his cheeks. He makes the most revolting crybaby faces you've ever seen. Your foot drives into his stomach, knocking him into the wall. He looks up. Something inside you twists, but you push it down. You have no capacity for pity. You grip the back of his head with something like gentleness. Sticky red smears on your palm as you grip his hair. 

A sound like a muffled shriek escapes Karkat as you slam that motherfucker's face into the wall. Again. Again. And again. You let him go suddenly and he slumps to the ground, clutching at his face. Bright red streaks paint a picture of his suffering all over. You add your own touch, wiping his mutant blood off your hand with distaste. 

_:o)_

You turn back to his pitiful body lying on the floor. He looks like he's trying not to move, but he's shaking. You kick him again and roll him over with your foot. You think he's crying again. You are so motherfucking tired of tears. They make you even angrier. You kneel down next to him. He tries to scramble away, but you step on his hand as you pin him down. You vaguely entertain the thought of breaking his fingers, but desist. He opens his mouth to hiss but ends up spitting blood. 

Blood. His vile mutated hue is smeared everywhere around the room, and he's dripping in it. Blood streams from the lumpy broken mess of his nose. It oozes from the puckered cuts and scrapes and lacerated flesh on his forehead and cheeks. Where one tooth was knocked out, it dribbles from the corners of his mouth. But his eyes. His blasted motherfucking glistening pleading eyes are untouched. You don't even feel the ghost of pity that you had before. All that is left is revulsion. Revulsion and rage. 

Knocking his weak hand aside, you lift your foot and place your knees on either side of his chest. You're effectively straddling him. With your weight on his bruised stomach, light as you may be, he cannot move. You grin at the way he flinches at your sudden movement. You lean forward so that you're almost nose to nose and your hot breath washes across his face. He wrinkles his nose, disgusted, but flinches again when you clasp his cheek with one hand. It feels good, absolutely intoxicating, to have this sort of power over your former moirail. His fear fuels your desire. You prod the corner of his eye with the fleshy pad of your thumb. He flinches and shuts that eye quickly. You press your fingernail into his eyelid. You gradually apply more and more pressure with your wicked sharp claw until he screams. You think it may be the most delicious thing you've ever heard. His screams echo out, probably ringing through the hallways all around this meteor, but no one can hear him and that is exactly the way you planned it. 

His flesh gives way under your claw and insanity-driven strength, and then you feel the trickling of hot blood that runs down his face and over your hand. You dig, further, deeper. The agonized sounds he's making send a shiver down your spine. You pay so much attention to the noises you barely notice when his weak hands grasp at yours, trying to make you stop. You decide to show him what happens when he struggles by forcing both your thumbs into his eye with a burst of energy. Red sprays on your face, but you ignore it in favor of enjoying the way his screams echo around the room and in your ears. Even after they subside into whispered, choked whimpers you can ear them bouncing around in your head.

"Motherfucker, from the sounds you're making, I be thinking you might be enjoying this. ISN'T THAT MOTHERFUCKING RIGHT? Don't play shy with me, best friend. YOU KNOW YOU FUCKING DESERVE THIS."

He whimpers again. You marvel at this whimpering shell. Deep down, you're a little disappointed. Didn't he have more motherfucking fight in him then that? It's when you prod at his bloody eye again that you get your answer. He tries to growl but it comes out a high-pitched shriek. You laugh and nearly miss the way he attempts to slice at you with a sickle you forgot he still had. You easily knock it aside, though not before he manages to make a scratch along your arm. Motherfuck. Maybe he had a little more fight in him after all. 

Though your thoughts seem to be moving at the speed of molasses beyond the immediate thoughts of pain and enjoyment, inspiration flashes across your mind. You turn to the sickle, pick it up, and run an appreciative thumb along the sharp edge. You can hear Karkat's breath hitch with horror. Yeah, motherfucker. With a hair-raising noise, you break a piece off the very end. It's a little bit jagged and no larger than your thumb. A little trill of anticipation runs up your column as you turn back to Karkat's terrified face. Or what you guess is supposed to be a terrified face, as puffy and torn as it is.

"Come on best friend. THIS IS GOING TO BE THE BEST FUCKING MOMENT OF YOUR WORTHLESS LITTLE LIFE, AIN'T IT? If life's a show, then we better be thinking WE'RE GOING TO REACH THE FUCKING CONCLUSION SOON, DON'T YOU THINK? Welcome to the dark carnival brother. YOU'RE THE FINAL ACT."

He chokes out a whimper. Slowly, softly, you brush the corner of his jaw with the tip. You glide it gently up his cheekbone and rest the point at his other eyelid, digging it in. He whines again, and you don't waste any time further. With one hand, you yank his undamaged eye open and plunge in the metal point. You tear at the connections, careless of how much you're smearing around, acting only to get it _out_.

After some moments of hard work, you've managed to tear it loose. You pull slowly, torn muscle and connections trailing behind. His eye comes free with a liquid plop. He's screaming again, screaming screaming screaming, and you wipe some blood off on his shirt. The reddish mixture on his face could be both blood and tears, but you don't know. You slap him a couple times to get him to shut up. That motherfucking noise is getting irritating. He doesn't stop. You mentally shrug your shoulders and continue on. You'd slash his fucking pipe if you could, but what would be the point in that? He'd die pretty soon, and hell, your fun just got motherfucking started. 

You settle on clapping your hand over his mouth and nose. He shuts right up and starts clawing at you, trying to get you to stop suffocating him, with revolting wet gasping and muffled squeaking noises thrown into the mix. Soon, he's weakening, his sniffles getting quieter, and with that you remove your hand and allow him to gasp for air. You choose to ignore his quiet whining for now. Your attention snaps back to the eyeball in your hand. You look closer, wiping your already bloodied thumb across it to inspect the blown pupil staring back at you, but not achieving much more than smearing more blood around. With a quiet snort, you realize there's a faster way to go about this. 

You curiously, slowly, reach out your tongue to lap at the surface. Of course, you've never licked an eyeball, so you don't know what to expect. The rubbery surface is a little jarring at first, but what captures your attention is the motherfucking _taste_ of blood and tears on your tongue. It's beyond description, and the fact alone that you are finally tasting this wastrel's misery brings you sadistic amounts of glee. A powerful kind of heat washes through you, different than your insane power before but just as equal in fervor. You start to explore it further, twisting your tongue through the tendrils and loose ends and savoring the flavor. You imagine it tastes electrifying, like you just up and swallowed a mouthful of fizzy Troll Poprocks. When you feel like you've gotten the last of the blood off the surface, you pull the mangled eye from your mouth. It's now kind of scratched from your teeth, but most importantly, it's clean. You look into it, wondering what you can see in its depths, but it is little more than a dead eye and your mouth twists in disappointment. 

You look back up at Karkat, who has stilled at the strange slurping noises that have filled the air and who you think is starting to grimace in disgust (not that it's stopped him from making his own disgusting fucking noises, the hypocrite). His seeming disdain makes the rage that quieted down for a while rear its ugly head again. The hand gripping the eyeball curls into a fist, and you feel the satisfying sensation of it bending under your palm, distorting it. With a mad cackle, you squeeze until you feel it pop. Thick fluid spills out across your hand, trickling through your fingers. You hiss in satisfaction and watch different emotions play across Karkat's face. You don't know if he understands what just happened, so you make it clear for him.

"Want a taste of your own ocular stubs, motherfucker?"

With that, you pry his mouth open and shove it in. You slam his jaw shut again, and grind up with your palm, trying to force him into some semblance of a chewing motion. He starts gagging, his lips puckering out as he tries to spit out the intrusion, his lumpy excuse of a cartilage nub scrunched. You clap a hand over his mouth, and grip his throat in your other hand. A groan rumbles out as he gulps minutely, and you squeeze harder, the motion making his muscles twitch as he accidentally swallows the whole thing. You release him, pleased, and don't make another move as you watch him curl in on himself, shoulders hunched up. He's shaking, and soon he's retching, vomiting up bile all over himself in spasms. You watch the eyeball come back up, now completely mangled and almost beyond recognition. You aren't sure if you want to pick it up again, seeing as it's now covered in acid, but you dip a finger in the chunky mush out of curiosity anyway. You bring it to your nose and take an appreciative sniff.

"DAMN, MOTHERFUCKER. You're just a fountain of NASTY SHIT, AREN'T YOU? This shit is some of the nastiest I've been seeing in a while. NOT THAT YOU'D KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT SEEING, NOT ANYMORE. That kind of privilege is reserved for your betters."

You wipe your finger off on his cheek, though you're not as disgusted as you seem. A quiet noise like a scoff escapes him, and you pause. You lean in close, hands framing his face, and sniff again. He stiffens under your grip.

"Got something to say to that, motherfucker? YOU'VE BEEN MIGHTY QUIET IN THE WAY OF WORDS."

You can feel his lips twitch like he's trying, and you listen attentively for any sort of noise he makes, but he doesn't seem to be up to speech at the moment. You grip harder, and he starts squirming underneath you, hands feebly pushing at your shoulders again. You keep him in place with ease.

"FINE. Have it your motherfucking way then. I KNOW I CAN GET YOU TO SING FOR ME IN ONE WAY OR ANOTHER." You hiss in his ear.

With no hesitation, your tongue dances up his cheek, licking up the trail of bile you left. It tastes bitter and disgusting under your tongue, but it's nothing compared to the heat you feel building up in your stomach, making you antsy. You excitedly begin laving harder, a frenzy overtaking you. You pull back minutely, one hand traveling a little higher. You poke at his eye just to hear him hiss in pain again. He's twitching under your grip, and you take no further time in pushing up his crusted eyelid and forcing your tongue into the socket waiting there. 

You are instantly rewarded for your efforts. He starts spasming underneath you, screaming. Your fingers tighten and you start to probe further into the socket, feeling the slick membrane of the walls and the limp cords from his muscles against the sides of your tongue. The taste of blood and tears is back, the electricity from before returning tenfold. You feel hot, feverish. You can feel hot blood welling up against your tongue, and you slurp at his eye enthusiastically. Soon your tongue is whirling again, dancing and exploring every crevice it can reach. You can't quite get the back, though. You salivate with the thought of feeling it give way under your tongue. New mission in mind, you start rhythmically thrusting into the bleeding socket, your tongue extended as far as it can go. 

His spasms underneath you turn into thrashing, his arms and hands flailing and hitting you harmlessly. His screams get louder. They reach a pitch you're sure only woofbeasts can hear. His writhing inadvertently causes his body to rub up against your crotch, and your breath hitches. A new development has literally unfolded. You rut up against him, exploring this new feeling. Your body starts to shake, the steely control you had at the beginning falling away with the promise of newer sensations. Soon you return to ravaging his eye socket, your thrusts matching the movements of your hips. You feel frisson travel down your spine and to your extremities, dissipating in lovely zaps just under your skin. You groan, exhaling forcefully. Drool is running down your chin, dribbling all over the both of you. 

Apparently this is enough to finally wrench some words out of the stupid husk beneath you. His screaming, before completely incoherent, now takes on familiar forms. His rasping gasps manage to penetrate (hehe) some of the haze in your mind.

"STOP. STOP! PLEASE. PLEASE. I'LL DO ANYTHING. PLEASE. STOP. GAMZEE. GAMZEE? STOP. YOU STOP RIGHT NOW."

He doesn't seem to be very good at this whole pleading thing. Half of that sounded like commands. You regretfully pull away from his eye, but are pleased to see a sloppy mixture of his tears, blood, and your saliva trail from your tongue and dribble from his ocular crevice. You lap it away from his twitching skin in a way that could be almost be considered lovingly, if it weren't for the fact you're in the middle of murdering your ex-best friend.

"THAT'S. SO. F-FUCKING D-D-DISGUSTING, OH MY GOD. STOP! STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP. S-STOP! UGH. GAMZEE. GAMZEE. ARE YOU L-LISTENING TO ME?"

You snap.

"I DON'T THINK YOU'RE IN ANY POSITIONS TO BE MAKING DEMANDS AND PASSING JUDGEMENTS ON ME, MOTHERFUCKER. You better be considering shutting up right the fuck now if you wanna be keeping that pretty little tongue of yours. THOUGH I KINDA LIKE THE WAY YOU BE SAYING MY NAME."

That shuts him up for a second, his face screwing up as much as it can again in disgust. He shifts underneath you. That's when he finally notices the length of your bulge fully extended, pressed against his stomach through the material of your pants.

"C-CHRIST. CHRIST FUCKING. YOU'RE GETTING OFF TO THIS. WHAT IS _WRONG_ WITH YOU? WHAT THE FUCK? FUCK YOU, FUCKING FUCK YOU SO MUCH. FUCK YOU. FUCK-"

You tire of his rambling almost immediately. You are excited with the opportunity to make good on your threat, and you lean forward to press your mouth against his. He continues to rant against it, though he is frozen underneath you. His curses are starting to sound like a mantra. The reminder of the fear he is feeling causes another wave of heat to roll through you, propelling you to pry his mouth open with your thumbs. That shuts him up. 

You stick your tongue in for a quick taste, though you get nothing more than the overpowering flavor of bile. You waste no time in sucking his tongue into your mouth, though he fights valiantly. You trap it between your teeth, though you're just nipping the tip. You tug, sharp teeth digging in to draw blood. You excitedly slurp it down, though it's rich flavor is marred with the taste of Karkat's vomit. No matter. You wretch his mouth open further and claw his tongue out with your fingers. With a quick growl, you grab as much as you can of his stupid muscleflap with your teeth. You bite down, hard, and start tugging your head back. You can feel it strain under your teeth. Karkat's screams return, though they're somewhat muffled by the blood running into his throat. You can feel the vibrations of his screams echoing through your teeth. They travel through your nerves. They seem to echo through your head again, aiding your lust in drowning out anything that could be called a coherent thought in your head. 

With a few valiant pulls, you manage to partially rip his tongue from the floor of his mouth. His struggles to pull his tongue back only serve to help you. A feral grin spreads across your face; blood is now pouring out of both of your mouths, gushing and coating the front of your shirt in more vibrant red. You imagine that your skin is probably more red than grey at the moment. 

Your hands travel from the sides of his face down to his shoulders. You use the added leverage to push yourself away, your grip on his tongue still tight. With a final burst of strength, his tongue tears free. The loss of tension causes Karkat's head to snap back against the floor forcefully with a thunk. He stills. His tongue slaps against your face slightly, a gush of blood accompanying it. You let it go. It flops into your lap, rolling down, and comes to a stop at Karkat's collarbone. 

You lean forward, listening. You can still feel and hear the rasps of his breath so you know he's alive. Just unconscious. However, the gasping is quickly becoming gurgling. It seems that he's starting to drown in his own blood. You pull on his shoulders to bring him back up to face you. His head lolls back. His body is completely slumped and pliant. It's a stunning contrast to his struggling. 

Gleefully, you slide off his chest. You kneel in front of him and turn him over so he's facing the ground. Blood pours from his mouth, though his breathing doesn't ease. It doesn't matter. He's sure to be gone now, your moirail from before. In this moment, you only care about the pleasure the still husk in front of you can bring. You can only keep your hands off of him long enough to pull down the waistband of your pants. 

Your bulge, finally exposed, twitches freely. You eagerly grasp Karkat's body by the shoulders, and bring his face down to your crotch. Your breath catches. You use one hand to grab a handful of hair caked with blood, and maneuver his mouth so that it's against your twitching bulge. You rub yourself against his slack face, a sticky purple trail mingling with the blood and tears that have dried there. His mouth sags open, and that's all the invitation you need. Roughly, you shove your writhing bulge as far into his mouth as you can go. Nubby teeth scrape along the sides of your bulge, drawing blood. You don't mind the pain. It's just another thing on top of the confusing whirl of sensations in your mind. Slowly, you start thrusting again. His pliant mouth is slick and warm with both blood and saliva. His traitorous red is oozing everywhere, and you find yourself enjoying the plum color that your mixed hues produce. Your pace quickens, and you find yourself making your own mix of groans, squeaks, and growls as you near the peak. With a final grunt, you spill. 

After a while, you come to. Gone are all the pleasant and strange sensations rushing through your head, with nothing to replace it. Your mind feels strangely empty. If there's a word for what you're feeling right now, you can't find it. (Drained? Conflicted? Repulsed?)

Wearily, you right your clothes, as though in doing so you can deny everything that just happened. You push away, looking around. You are completely covered in blood, as are the floor and the wall closest to you. You feel disgusting. You look down at the corpse in front of you and something breaks. This is what you wanted, wasn't it? Of course it was.

You curl yourself over your best friend's lifeless body. As the last of your energy leaves you, you start to cry.


End file.
